


Tennis, Anyone?

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-04
Updated: 2010-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can I… Can I rub your hair while you—?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tennis, Anyone?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orphica](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=orphica).



“I’m bald.”

“You are not bald. You are, however, a drama queen.”

“Okay, I’m not technically bald. But my head looks like a tennis ball.”

There was a choked snorting sound on the other end of the line.

“Chris?”

A slight squeak.

“Why are you not contradicting me?”

Muffled wheezing.

“Goddammit, Chris.”

Finally, all of Chris’ breath came out in a single guffaw that sounded like an injured donkey. “Sorry, I’m sorry, you can’t _say_ things like that and not expect me to...”

“To what? Be a supportive boyfriend and tell me that, no, my head _doesn’t_ look like a tennis ball and I am still devastatingly sexy.”

“You _are_ still devastatingly sexy.”

“But…”

“But you can’t deny the textural and structural similarities, if not the color—”

“Fuck. You.”

“Hey, you brought it up.”

Zach groaned. “Michael convinced me that Louis would have a super-low maintenance haircut. And I _listened_ to him. What the fuck was I thinking?”

“Listen to yourself, Zachary. You went around for months with half-eyebrows, and that was way worse.”

“And I bitched about that, too. Mostly to Joe, though. Didn’t know you well enough yet.”

“So this is the price I pay for all those blowjobs?”

“Damn straight. BJs for bitching, it’s in your contract.”

“I don’t remember negotiating a specific ratio.”

“Come out here to see me and I’ll give you all the head you want.”

Chris snorted again. “Can I… Can I rub your hair while you—?”

“Offer withdrawn. Sulky handjobs, if anything. And I retain the right to multitask while I jerk you off.”

“I can only imagine what those tweets will be like. _raccoons in the outhouse. aloofness is the new black. stroke. stroke. spooge everywhere._ Hey, wait a minute, you tweet that shit from your iPhone, don’t you?”

“Some of it, yeah.”

“And doesn’t the iPhone automatically capitalize the next letter after a period?”

“Your point?”

“So you deliberately push the button to uncapitalize every time you write a new word. You put actual _effort_ into pretending to be unpretentious.”

“So?”

“So that’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, you know what? I’m going to choose to ignore that and focus on the fact that you have finally come around and started reading my Twitter. A few more years and you might start thinking about getting one yourself.”

“I had to read it – you and John were talking about me behind my back like a couple of twelve-year-old girls.”

“Admit it. You hang on my every word.”

“Fine, I admit it. I hang on every perfect and mellifluous word that emerges from the profound depths of your tennis ball head.”

“ _Oh_ my god.”

“Zach?”

“What _now_?”

“You’re still hot.”

“Thank you, Christopher, that doesn’t sound insincere at all.”

“No, I mean it. I know you’re upset and kind of freaking out because it’s been a while since you’ve been on stage—”

“I am _not_ —”

“—but you’re still gorgeous and sexy and you are going to fucking _own_ that theatre. I mean it. People are going to be all ‘Angels? What angels? The only heavenly body I saw up there belonged to Zach Quinto.’”

“Have you even read the play?”

“I… skimmed.”

“Great fucking literary genius you are.”

“I love you too, baby.”


End file.
